


Rewind

by Xrs1109



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Out of Character, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xrs1109/pseuds/Xrs1109
Summary: Angie Hamilton had never thought of not having her brother around, but this time it came true.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Theodosia Burr Alston/Philip Hamilton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Rewind

**Author's Note:**

> This story was created for an English Literature class assignment. As a non-native English speaker, this is my first time writing a fan fiction in English. Hope you enjoy reading and fell free to tell me any thoughts or suggestions about the story! Thank you:)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction from the Hamilton world which is trademarked by Lin-Manuel Miranda. The characters in the story are created and owned by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Hamilton. This was created for a school assignment, not for financial gain, and is not a part of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s canon.

***

Angie Hamilton has never thought of not having her brother around, but this time it comes true.

She’s sitting on the carpet in perplexity, surrounded by game cards, story books and animal cloth dolls Philip throws out from their shared toy box. Philip pours another jar of colorful glass beads. Theodosia wows, exchanges a glance with Philip in excitement, then picks up all the red ones, not in notice that Angie’s eyes are on fire. Angie can’t remember the last time her brother being so nice. He would scream and kick when others -- including his little sister -- touch his favorite treasures only a little bit.

“These are rubies and emeralds, the most fashionable ones. You may use them to make medals for my animal soldiers who fought in the war.” Philip takes a swift glimpse at Angie, and hands a thread to the girl in yellow lace dress, “Miss Burr, you are now honored as the royal tailor.”

Angie purses her lips. She’s almost ignored when Commander Philip assigns duties, playing with the skirt of the doll. Philip has endless small talks when he is with this girl popping up from nowhere, and Angie has never been treated like that. See, she just turned seven and Philip’s already nine, stepping up to the team of older kids and being an elite among them. He’s practicing French and piano with Mom (sometimes rapping with dad) when Angie reads story books of mostly pictures.

He always has his own little gang to hang out with, and I’m no longer his reliable companion. Thinking of that, Angie can’t contain her sobbing, and the growing despondence makes her burst into loud cries, which is her usual trick. Every time she cries and no adults are there, Philip would come and comfort her until she feels better, imitating how their mother did -- although he is the naughtiest in the Hamilton family (except for Dad), he has his gentle side.

And this time, Angie succeeds again. Philip looks up from the jungle armies and meets Angie's tearful eyes. Angelica cries even more bitterly, gasping. The girl in the yellow dress next to Philip raises her eyebrows slightly and looks at her with an expression that says "what's wrong with her?”

After all, Philip is the one who knew Angie best. He sees through his sister's trick at first sight, but years of experience has taught him that a reassuring hug is all that was needed. He puts the toy down, stands up and walks over to Angie. He lets his sister put her arms around his neck, and held her up effortlessly.

Angie wipes away her tears expertly, looking at Philip irrepressibly. Her brother seems embarrassed to be stared at, so he puts her on the floor. Angie stares at the girl working on glass beads -- she’s about Philip's age, with dark, brown curls, rosy cheeks, and a quirky smile in the eyes.

“Sorry, my sister always cries a lot.” said Philip, “Theo, this is Angie. Angie, this is Theo, and you may work as her assistant while she makes medals for my soldiers.”

“I’m not a crybaby, “ claims Angie, and her cheeks turns red, too. Theo looks at her, giggling. Philip follows with a gentle laugh, which comforts Angie. She likes the way he smiles, heartless but reassuring, the corner of his eyes into two crescent moons.

Angie has to admit that Theodosia was a nice companion. Seeing Angie hiding in her brother’s arms with desiring eyes lingering on the lovely dolls she brought, she doesn’t hesitate sharing and introducing their names. Angelica is dazzled and begs Theodosia to give the doll more poses, and Theodosia is readily on board. This makes Philip very unhappy, shouting to take the girls to see his newly assembled animal corps, and then is rejected by the both girls. Their mom, Eliza, who peeps through the nursery door to see how much fun they were having, turns to serve a large plate of tea with frosted cupcakes, creme caramel pudding and the children's favorite biscuit, and tells Theodosia to take some when she goes.

Every Saturday afternoons, when Mr Burr comes over to discuss something important with their dad, Angie and Philip would wait at the corner of the stairs, and run into the nursery as soon as they peeked through the window and saw the yellow-dressed girl stepped out of the carriage with her dad. As Theodosia bounces upstairs, opens the door of the nursery and tries to search for them, they would suddenly jump out from the wardrobe, rush to her, giggling.

Those summers filled with the sweet smell of baked cakes, wooden floors, toy soldiers and laughter were always Angie's best childhood memories.

***

Every time Dad goes out to work, he hugs the kids goodbye.

“Dad,” Angie says, wrapping her hands around Alexander's neck and staring at him, "you're going to bring Angie some new piano scores, right?”

“Sure, honey. One for you and one for Phil, so that we can chill out together when I’m back home for meal.” Alexander's sharp eyes are soft only when he looks at his children, “Soon my little Angie will be able to play harder pieces, but this time she’ll have some easier etudes.”

“And I’ll start learning Bach’s fugues with Mommy when you struggle with scales.” Says Philip, and Angie tries hard not to beat him.

“I thought you remembered the score we talked about last month.”Angie murmurs. That’s a songbook of beautiful love songs that she deeply enjoys and hoped to learn to play. “I’ll buy it for you if I see it.” Alexander lovingly rubs Angie’s braids, smoothes the hem of her ruffled dress, and kisses Eliza. Ignoring the eager eyes of the children behind him, he strides smartly towards the carriage.

“Daddy has just become Secretary of the Treasury of President Washington, and he’s going for a cabinet meeting,” Mom explains to the children when she writes to aunt Angelica, “You should be considerate of him. He is very busy with his work. Especially you, Philip—don’t fuzz up the nursery with your toys anymore.”

Angie enjoys lying down on the carpet and gazing at Mom’s contour. Mom likes to sit in an easy chair in the living room and writes carefully with her head down. If she writes with gustos, it's to aunt Angelica or aunt Peggy to update about her children. If her eyes turn soft, smiling gently, it’s to Dad. At this time Mom always looks like a young girl, sitting beside the ground window in warm orange light. Occasionally, Mom likes to go into Dad's study and sit in front of his usual desk, helping him sort out the papers that littered his desk, or just sit down and leave them there.

“Alex is a workaholic. I don't know how he can stay up all night writing so much. I can't even imagine." In the middle of a mother-child piano lesson, Angie, who’s listening outside the door, hears her mother confide in Philip.

Dad has not played with her for a long time. Every time he comes out of the study late at night, he just tiptoes into the nursery, covers Philip's kicked quilt, kisses Angelica's forehead, and stands outside the cots to catch a glimpse of the sleeping little brothers. Sometimes, this is the only communication Angie has with her dad all day. Through the dim light that shines through the door into the room, she sees her Dad trudging wearily toward each of the children's beds. The work seems to drain his energy and smiles, leaving only a skinny face, sharp eyes and sighs. But in front of her, he is always funny and cute, just like Philip. She lies in her bed every night, tucks herself in, cuddles her doll, and waits until late at night to whisper "good night" in her dad's ear when he comes to see her.

But that night Dad doesn’t come to the nursery.

Holding a thick stack of papers, he goes to live in his study. Hiding behind the door, Angie hears her mother's anxious voice: "You've been out all day! Come to your room and get some sleep. Work tomorrow." As if he has not heard, he goes on with his work, laying out a table of manuscripts.

“My financial plan was rejected by them. Thomas Jefferson, that crazy big-hair in pink suits…”

Angie can hear her Dad mutter as writing as if he’s “running out of time”. Thomas Jefferson, that must be him. Only he makes dad so angry. They never seems to agree with each other. Politics is always difficult.

She and Theodosia sometimes argue -- and even fight, mostly about naming dolls and the role of mother in the playhouse game. Then Philip will come and be the peacemakers, and the girls will turn from weeping to smiling.

Maybe Jefferson has a strong personality like Theodosia does. Theodosia is like a benchmark among children. Whether it’s Latin and arithmetic, which are the most troublesome, or literature, dance, sociability, Theodosia is firmly at the top of the league and holds herself to the strictest standards. But it also makes Theodosia pay close attention to her status among friends. She has to argue over such a small matter like the role of mother in the playhouse game, and at last Philip has to persuade her to stop. Even so, Angie is willing to play with Theodosia and be her sidekick.

Theodosia also has a vulnerable side. She rarely mentions her mother's illness, and when the three of them accidentally talk about it, a haze of grief arouses in her clear brown eyes. “Mom liked music,” she says, “I tried to cheer her up by playing the harp, but failed.”

Angie and her brother can feel her frustration. So they are cooperative and never bothered Theo. They are looking forward to each of her visit. The sunflower-like girl always brings some bright atmosphere to the house.

If only dad could get along with his "political enemies", he wouldn’t have to spend every day in his study doing fairy work. Instead, he could spend more time listening to Philip practice the piano, sing with Angie, and play with the younger brothers. Even if it's just a family walk after dinner, that would be nice.

***

In the morning, Angie and Philip are sitting on the piano bench, head touching head, peeping at the children's novel hidden under the score of Bach’s fugues. As soon as they hear their mom's voice, they begin to play with four hands in a solemn manner. It’s their regular operation to relax in the gap between practicing. Philip complains that Angie is too noisy, and Angie complains that Philip turns the pages too quickly. They are about to argue when Mom calls from the living room, "Philip! Angie! Alex! Look who's here!"

No need to ask. It must be aunt Angelica—she’s the only one who can get mom to change her ladylike manners and scream like a little girl. She flings herself on aunt in lace traveling cap with tears, kisses and unconcealed laughter. Aunt Angelica smiles as she straightens Mom's tangled hair. "This is not my first time here, Eliza.”

Aunt Angelica releases Mom, who was still all excitement, and goes to tenderly greet the hurrying children. “Your dad always writes about you! Angie, you’re growing taller again. Last time I saw you, you were this short.” Angie giggles, “I'll certainly be taller than my brother in two years." She likes aunt Angelica from the bottom of her heart. Not only because Angie’s named after her, but also because she’s easy to get along with. Every time aunt comes to the house, she can easily recall the situation of everyone in the family, the height and preferences of each child. People say Angie resembles her aunt not only in the name and beauty, but also in the amiable personality.

Dad unexpectedly comes downstairs from his study. He hasn't been seen in Angie for a long time since the last cabinet meeting. He has lost a lot of weight, dressed in his housedress, his hair untidy, and comes to hug aunt Angelica. "Long time no see, Angelica.”

"How are you, my dearest Alexander?" Aunt smiles bitterly which nobody noticed, but it’s in Angie’s eyes, “How’s the plan of the National Bank? Did you persuaded Jefferson?"

"Not very well. Let's talk in the lounge. “Dad looks grave and turns away to Philip and Angie."Eliza, please take the children to practice. We have something to talk about."

Mom's mouth opens silently and closes at last. She pats Philip on the shoulder as his eyes linger around the study’s door -- he’s clearly curious about what dad was going to talk about -- and says, "come on, let's go to the piano room."

After dinner, Angie hears her mother and aunt talking.

"He's still going his own way... I advised him to sit down with Jefferson and compromise and appease him. Then things can be settled. I've always felt that his character offends people too easily, and I don't know if it's good for his politics."

"Alexander still doesn't want to go upstate with us to see our father-- and he shouldn't be forced to. But he spent most of the last two days sleeping in his study. He has lost a lot of weight and it’s time to go out and relax. The kids are young, they need their father's company..." Mom's voice trembles.

After the silence, aunt Angelica says, "Don't worry. We have to trust him. After all, he's Alexander. Despite my friendship with Jefferson, I would stand firmly by Alexander's side. Don't worry, Eliza.”

Indeed, Philip resents Dad’s up-coming long absence. When it's time to go to bed, he refuses to go to bed. Wearing a blue scarf given by Dad, he dances on Angie’s bed, wiggling his bottom, singing rap verses taught by Dad, and begs Mom to beatbox the accompaniment. He tries to drag Dad out of the study for a goodnight hug and urges Angie to join the plan, but Mom stops him.

Realizing the reality, Philip gives up all attempts, covers himself with a small quilt, and spends the night chatting face to face with Angie. In his words, "When the enemy (mom) leaves, we should attack and rendezvous with the ally (dad)." God knows when dad will finish work and say goodnight to the children.

"I want to help Dad and make him proud." Says Philip, in a despondent voice, tucking his whole body under the quilt. “But how? Hasn’t he forget us already…”

Angie hears even breaths coming from the other side. It seems that one of the soldiers who claimed to be meeting the ally had fell asleep already. Silently she clasps the doll in her hand. Maybe Dad will come tonight. Can't sleep. Don't sleep. Angie, you can do it.

The nursery door swings open. With weary steps he makes the noise so small, so light. He passes each of the little moonlit beds, touches one child's head, and tucks the other's quilt in. Angie feels that he’s standing at her brother's bedside for the longest time. Finally, the steps are closer. Angie smells a little of the study's prints and manuscripts, mixed with tobacco and gardenia.

He seems to be staring at her -- his seven-year-old daughter, lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. Her eyelashes gently cover her delicate skin, and her curls falls on her shoulders and pillows. He slips the doll into her quilt. Then he pulls a thin book out of his arms -- what looks like a songbook.

He lays the songbook gently on the child's pillow and watches her sleep for a moment.

"Good night. My dearest, Angelica.”

Angie wakes up from a nightmare. She can’t remember any detail of it, and all she could do is sob in Mom’s arms.

“It’s okay baby, Mommy’s here.” Eliza gently pats Angie’s shoulder to give her comfort. “Everything will be fine…”

As her breath turns calmer, Angie looks up at Eliza in perplexity. She remembers yesterday about the songbook. Dad bought it for her and put it on her pillow when she pretended to be asleep. He remembered their promise! But now it’s not on her bed.

“Where’s the songbook, Mom?” She jumps out. They’re waiting for her in the living room, expecting her to play every new song she learned.

“Which one?” Eliza is confused.

“The one Dad gave it to me yesterday! Where is it?” Angie begins searching around, breathing rapidly, “Don’t you remember? Where is it?”

You could almost recite every piece in it before your father passed, Angie. Eliza squeezes out a bitter smile, “I put it on the piano bench, honey.”

Angie walks out of the bedroom. Bright sunshine lights up the wooden floor in the living room, and little brothers are laughing and chasing each other. Dad waves to her, holding a thick stack of documents, a cookie in his mouth. Philip is sitting by him, grinning, his blue eyes squeezed into crescent moons.

She rushes to the piano, finds the scores, and turns the yellowing pages. “Wouldn’t you play Mayfair for me, honey?” Dad’s voices echoes.

“Sure, but only if Philip sings along.”Angie giggles. “I guess you need my help on the left hand parts. Your hands can’t even reach the octaves.” Philip comes and sits next to her on the bench, teasing her. “That’s because my hands are smaller—but they’ll certainly be bigger than yours when I grow up.”Angie purses her lips. Her fingers gently strokes the key, playing out the very first note. And Dad and Philip begin singing.

Golden Slumbers, kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise:  
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,  
And I will sing you a lullaby.

Eliza stands quietly at the entrance to the living room, leaning on the doorframe. Closing her eyes, she seems to hear Alexander's deep voice, to see his intelligent eyes and long-lost smile. The son and daughter sit huddled on the piano bench, basking in the sunshine outside the window, playing their father's favorite old ballad. Philip's eyes are clear, and Angie has dimples in her smile. It’s just like the older times had returned. When she reopens her eyes, the scenery is gone. Only her daughter, lonely, old and weak, pressing the keys with trembling hands, but her cheeks are rosy. Gradually, she no longer bursted out sudden cries at midnight, calling Philip and Dad’s name -- she forgets the passage of time, wandering and finally losing her way in the past.

Angie Hamilton has never thought of not having her brother around. Now he’s sitting by her side, murmuring the melody, pressing the keys almost 2 times louder than she did. At the climax, they switched glances tacitly and giggled. She thinks of Theodosia’s mother. “Phil,” after they finishes the song, she whispers,”We could perform this to Theo’s mom next time we visit their house. She’ll absolutely like it.”

She hears him say “sure”.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Angie in real history suffered from a mental breakdown due to the shock of the death of Philip, who was killed in a duel when he was only 19. According to Ron Chernow’s biography Alexander Hamilton, she could hardly recognize her family member when her situation got worse, and “for the rest of her life, she sang songs that she had played on the piano in duets with her father, and she always talked to her dear brother as if he were alive” (Chernow 730).


End file.
